Shadows on the Frontier
by IDidn'tKnowIWasLost
Summary: Clary, Izzy, Maia, and Aline discover that, together, they make a bad ass group of outlaws. Clary has sworn on the Angel that she will make everyone pay and her gang is there to back her up. Outlaws and Bounty Hunters. Love and death. Revenge and retribution. Warning: Strong sexual content. Non-con. Gore. Please enjoy. **Re-Write**
1. Surrender

**A/N: I'M SORRY TO ANYONE WHO READ THE ORIGINAL SHADOWS ON THE FRONTIER. I JUST WASN'T HAPPY WITH THE WAY IT WAS WRITTEN. I FELT THE STORY WOULD HAVE MUCH MORE POTENTIAL IF IT WERE WRITTEN THIS WAY. THE STYLE OF THE STORY IS DIFFERENT. DON'T WORRY CLARY IS STILL BAD ASS (IF NOT MORE SO) ALONG WITH THE REST OF THE GIRLS. I JUST THOUGHT THE STORY WOULD RUN A LOT SMOOTHER THIS WAY.**

**DON'T HATE ME TOO MUCH; I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS LOST.**

**P.S JADEWYCH YOU'RE JUST AWESOME**

**THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR READING!**

"_At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice."  
― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_

**SURRENDER**

**SAN FRANCISCO, 1849**

It's hotter than hell right now, but Luke's got me outside, teaching me how to fire a weapon and defend myself. I imagine I'm so sunburned that my skin matches my, stubborn, tumble weave of fiery red hair. I even doubt you could distinguish a single freckle on my burnt skin and that's saying something, since they're so dang noticeable.

Sweat drips down my forehead, threatening to drown my bright green eyes, but I'm unbothered. Sweat in my eyes is nothing compared to Luke's powerful right hook so I stay focused. I dodge and swing, deflect and kick back and forth 'til he feels we've trained enough for one day. He doesn't go easy on me just because I'm a fifteen year old girl. Luke always says that going easy on me won't do me any good in the real world. He says I should know how to fight someone faster than me or stronger than me. The world won't go easy on me, so I best be prepared.

As frustrating (and painful) as it all is, I know he's right.

Luke has been training me ever since I was a kid. He's not my father by blood, but he sure as hell feels like it to me. I know he's got a yearning for my momma too. Hell, even the blind could see that. Leave it to my momma to be the only one who can't.

People say I look just like Jocelyn. We got the same red hair, though hers is a few shades darker, and the same green eyes. Other than that, I feel that's where the similarities end.

My momma is gorgeous and curvy. I'm cute and flat. She has this air of confidence and prominent beauty. I got a chip on my shoulder and a freckled scowl.

Distracted by my thoughts, I don't move quickly enough and I get clipped in the chin. It's not the first time I've been hit by Luke (It's not as abusive as it sounds) but it still stings like a foul bitch and my sunburn isn't making it any less painful.

"Focus, Clary" he urges.

I hate getting hit in the face, even if it's just a simple love tap, so Luke knows to quickly get on the defensive. I now have him backing up, doing his best to deflect my advances. He swings his left arm out to block me and exposes that side of his face. I fake like I'm going for a body shot but at the last minute, my fist changes course and lands solidly on his cheek. He falls on his ass and I pull out my pistol and aim at his head.

"Surrender?" I ask.

"Damn, Clary. You didn't have to punch me so hard," he scolds as he rubs his cheek.

It isn't the first time I've bested Luke. At first he'd get all proud-like and praise me for being his big-little girl. But I guess the novelty has worn off since he just complains about how hard I hit him.

"The world won't go easy on you, Luke. You better expect pain and learn from it or you may as well pick out your own tombstone if you can't handle it," I repeat his words back to him. He scowls at me and it has me grinning from ear to ear. "Surrender?" I offer again.

"Yeah, yeah, I surrender. Now get that revolver out my face."

I holster my gun and we both walk to the fire where my momma has started cooking rabbit.

"You two enjoy marking each other up?" Momma asks.

I nod cheerfully which causes her to frown at me.

"Don't look so happy about it Clary. If fighting didn't keep you from being a defenseless little girl, I'd forbid Luke to teach you such things."

"But it does, Momma. You said it yourself, San Francisco ain't safe anymore. It's become a Boomtown with all this gold those 49ers are finding. And those lover boys you say snatch up young girls like me and sell them to whore houses, are rolling in with the rest of those crooks. It's for the best that I know how to fight." I argue.

"You're right, Clary. But you need to take it more seriously."

"I do!" I say loudly.

"Calm down you two. Daylight's fading and we don't need anyone to come across us," Luke reminds us.

"How much further 'til we make it to Idris, Luke?" I asked only out of habit.

We'd left San Francisco about three weeks ago and had been travelling ever since.

One day Momma just couldn't deal with all the newcomers in our town. Our small town went from hundreds to thousands before I could even take notice. Then parlors and brothels started getting built. Gold miners started giving me lust-filled looks. So she packed our clothes and necessities and bought a small wagon and tied it to our family horse. Momma didn't want to finish raising me in a boomtown and she said the safest place for us was Idris: The City of Glass.

Idris' law enforcement is real strict there. They don't let in any crooks or killers and Momma says they have a way of telling if you are or not. Luke even says that they have this thick wall of glass that's bulletproof (Which I find hard to believe. Nothing is bullet proof) and it surrounds the entire city.

"Two days walk," he answered with a smile.

I returned the smile with much enthusiasm. We'd been walking so long, I didn't think we'd ever get there. We were getting close. Finally! Once we get there I'm not gonna' walk or ride a horse nowhere. I'm sick of travelling.

"Good," Momma whispered. She hesitated before she continued to say, "Once we're in Idris, I don't want you fighting or shooting anymore, Clary."

"What!"

"And no more trousers for you, young lady. It's about time I see my daughter in petticoats."

_You can say hell no to that! I'd rather walk barefooted on a trail of hot, broken glass all the way back to San Francisco than to put on a stinking, frilly dress._

I stand up to walk away. If I stay anywhere near my momma, I may be tempted to hit her.

"Where you going?" Luke asks.

"To go pee," I growl out.

I find me a decent bush and pull down my trousers and do my business. Just as I have my trousers fastened, I'm grappled from behind, causing my sunburn to scream in protest.

"What the fu—"I start to holler but a huge sweaty hand clamps down on my mouth. I start to gag as his fluids coat my lips, but I gather my wits and chomp down on his hand 'til I taste blood.

"Ugh—You nasty little bitch!" My attacker cries as he shoves me harshly to the ground. I hit my head and feel dizziness building behind my eyes, but I'm not on my back for more than a second before I roll away and jump to my feet.

I face my attacker who's about a foot taller than me. His ugly face is twisted in shock since I haven't run away screaming. He breathes out a stupid caveman like chuckle as he sizes me up and I fight the bile rising in my throat due to the putrid odor.

_He's big but he's out of shape. He also seems to be mighty dense, _I think as I stare at his goofy grin. _This should be fun._

The caveman finally decides to make his move and rushes towards me. I easily circle around his huge body and with all the force I can muster; I kick him between his legs. The point of my boot splits his ball sack with a satisfactory tearing sound.

Before I can even do a victory dance, my heart damn near shatters at the sound of my mother's scream.

"CLARY! RUN!"

_Like hell, woman! Family doesn't leave family behind._

I reach for my pistol, but as soon as I feel the cool metal against my palm, everything goes black.

…

It feels like I've been run over by a wagon trail when I come to. I open my eyes, but my damn vision won't clear. I try to massage my temple but I realize my hands have been bound behind my back. I'm all disoriented and I'm hurting all over. A sun burn is the least of my troubles.

"By the Angel, I feel like shit," I groan out.

"She's lady like ain't she?" an unfamiliar voice chuckles. It's a smooth accented voice that would sound exotic if it weren't for him mocking me.

_Bastard._

"It's a shame we can't keep her, Raphael," another stranger laughs. "I'd love to show her what manners look like." His English is broken as he speaks and not as beautiful as the first speaker.

We must have been attacked by Mexicans.

"If it's anything like that voice you got, Screech, I'd like to be blind folded ta boot, thank you." I spit out with what I hope is an enormous amount of sarcasm. But on the inside I'm screaming: Please don't rape me, please don't rape me. Hell, kill me, but just don't rape me!

The exotic voice, Raphael, chuckles.

"You stupid bitch!" Screech yells out.

My vision clears just in time to see him cock back his arm to strike me. I look him dead in the eye without flinching. If I'm gonna' get hit, I ain't gonna' show him any fear.

At the last moment, Raphael deflects the blow.

"She is merchandise Julio. You break it, you buy it. And for the price Camille is getting for this beautiful lady, you could not afford it.

Julio jerked a stiff nod in acceptance.

As they spoke I took in my surroundings. We were still at our campsite. The family horse was missing and our sacks were thrown on the ground, their contents spread over the grass.

My gaze rolled over those useless items as I was only interested in finding Momma and Luke. Finally my gaze landed on Luke's figure and I wanted to scream. He lay face down in his own blood. Fragments of his skull and brains had dotted the area.

_Luke!_ I cried on the inside.

All I wanted to do was scream and cry 'til there was no oxygen left in the world. But Luke had taught me to never let the enemy know your weakness. Don't let them know your emotions or thoughts. Keep them guessing. It's how to survive.

_It didn't keep Luke alive,_ my mind said to me without my permission. _Damn it, get it together Clary._

I let my gazeroll over Luke's dead body as if he were dirty laundry on the floor.

The shock Raphael and Julio were experiencing over my lack of reaction was so severe, I could almost feel it.

I could almost hear Luke's chuckle. 'That's my girl,' he'd say.

_Damn you Luke for dying._

The two Mexicans eyed me uneasily as my eyes roamed the grounds for my mother. It didn't take long to find her near one of the Mexicans horses. She lay unmoving, but unlike Luke, she wasn't in a pool of her own blood. But the angle of her body disturbed me. It looked unnatural and made her body seem broken. I felt my heart shatter all over again. They probably snapped her neck.

If they make the mistake of letting me live, I swear on the Angel, I'll kill them and anybody else responsible.

I turn away from my mother's body and look Raphael in the eye with my 'I'm bored' look and ask with a matching voice, "If you're gonna' kill me, think you boys can get on with it already? The suspense (pun intended) is killing me."

"No me gusta esto, Jefe. Esta niña es insensible," Julio complained. "Sólo había matado a su familia, y ni siquiera se inmutó

"Pussy," I muttered just as the caveman who attacked me before showed his face. It took all I had not to burst into fits of laughter, but I allowed a smirk to cross my lips. He waddled over to us, red-faced, sweating and holding his junk.

"Callate lo ceico!" the caveman shouted.

"Mateo, calmate," Raphael said to the cave man in a soothing tone. The caveman locked his jaw but still glared murderously at me. My smirk stretched wider across my face.

Raphael turned to me then, and eyed me with curiosity. "Do you surrender?" he asked me.

I tried to fight the shiver that threatened to wrack through my body. Raphael's question echoed my own when I had bested Luke. His choice of words made me wonder if he had been watching us then.

We stared at each other another moment. I wanted badly to tell him to eat shit and kill me already. But if I did that, how would I ever exact my revenge?

"Do you surrender," he repeated.

In that moment, I was certain he was watching us the whole time. It was his turn to smirk.

"I surrender," I said with my chin lifted proudly.

I had captured a glimpse of Raphael's smirk falter just before I saw the flash of his boot as he kicked at my head. For the second time that day I was rendered unconscious. ….

We were only two days away from Idris. We were only two days from safety only for Momma and Luke to be murdered and for those rat bastards to turn me back around and take me right back to San Francisco. I can't wait to kill them. I've sworn on the Angel that I'd kill them, I'll make it happen.

I woke to a heavy hand dragging across my bruised cheek.

"Wake up now, Hermosa. You're home," Raphael cooed.

"Home?" I asked in my groggy state of mind.

"You bruised her face," a woman pointed out. She spoke softly but there was and undertone in her voice that I picked up on. She sounded livid to me.

I tried to evaluate her but my eyes refused to focus. I suppose too many hits on the head can do that to a girl.

"Put her to sleep," the woman ordered.

What? What does that mean? Put me to sleep? Do I get to die now?

But before I could ask any of my questions out loud, the big, ugly caveman brought his sweaty palm over my nose and mouth. This time, there was a chloroform drenched cloth in his hand and it did not take long for the blackness to take over my vision.

I woke up beneath a white duvet on a four poster bed. Wrapped around one of the posters was a chain that stretched out into a rusted metal cuff. Can you take a lucky guess at whose ankle was trapped in the center of that cuff? Yep. Yours truly.

Before I could even build up the proper amount of anger/fear at being chained to a bed inside a brothel, the duvet slipped from my torso and my anxiety peaked.

While I was unconscious, some bastard had the nerve to change me into the world's girliest damn corset ever created. It's pure white with white roses sewn into the fabric.

I'm pretty damn sure this is silk. The corset dived low over my torso and sent my breasts damn near up my nose. Matching thigh highs were fitted over my pale, short legs and looking into the vanity I saw that someone had painted my face with eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. It wasn't extreme like most women seemed obligated to abuse, but it was enough for me to definitely take notice. My crimson curls cascaded down my shoulders in stylish waves, resembling trails of fire against the white of my "clothing"

I gasp out loud at my own reflection. I look like my mother, prominently beautiful and worldly.

I looked beautiful.

I was never self-conscious and I was always happy with my looks, but I had always compared myself to my mother and I never fooled myself into thinking I was beautiful. No, I was never Jocelyn beautiful. I suppose I did my best to not look like her. But now that she was d—gone, I was proud to look like her. Not saying that my momma ever dressed like this nor would she ever appreciate me wearing it…

I hated to admit it but I almost felt grateful to whoever transformed me. Then I remembered that I was molested out of my clothing as I lay drugged into slumber and forced into the skimpy outfit of a whore. Fear spiked through me as I wondered what else may have been forcibly removed while I was unconscious.

I pressed a hand to my middle between my legs but felt no soreness. A sigh of relief blew past my lips just as a curious hum announced another's presence in the room.

I whipped around to see a woman whom I could only describe as majestic. She had beautiful blue eyes that were as clear as glass and a curtain of scarlet hair that was flipped over one pale shoulder. She was slender and taller than me, though that was never rare, and I couldn't guess how old the woman was.

Late twenties, perhaps? Hell, thirties...forties? The woman had an ageless air about her.

Over all the woman was a lovely creature to look at, but I couldn't help but feel this eerie presence of cold calculation emanating from the woman like a bad odor. I sensed that this mystical woman was an extravagant manipulator to a substantial degree. It was obvious this being before me was nothing to toy with.

We stood there, meeting eye to eye, for only half a second, but all the while we sized each other up. I decided I admired the woman's strength in character, but knew instantly to keep my guard around the glassy eyed lady.

"White suits you very well." the woman spoke in a soft, airy voice. Her voice strangely reminded me of the backbone of a gentle windstorm, tickling throughout the endless atmosphere

"You'd almost look like an angel if you weren't playing with yourself," she taunted in her polite tone.

It felt like fire had just whipped across my face as I felt my blush creep over my cheeks. I wanted so badly to cuss' the old hag 'til my tongue fell off, but there was a smarter way to go about this.

"I wasn't playing with myself, though it's none of your business."

"Checking for bugs then? Our customers can often be unhygienic," the woman mused.

I paled instantly at her implications. The bitch must've seen fear in my face because she threw her head back in a theatrical way and laughed at me. "Do keep calm, little Angel; no one has touched you since your pretty red head has been sheltered under my roof."

"Your roof?"

"Yes, my roof. I am Madame Fey also known as your Queen. Dare to call me by another title and I'll have those pretty emeralds snatched from your sockets and wear them for earrings," she threatened in a friendly tone.

I could only inwardly gape at this woman. I had already shown her my fear at the thought of losing my virginity to some stranger, I could not let her see how bothered I was by her evil insanity.

"I don't care what your name truly is; from now on you are called Angel. I hear any other name cross those sexy lips of yours," Madame Fey lowered her voice and stepped intimately close to me.

_Ugh, floosy alert_.

I wanted to cringe away from her intrusion of my personal space, but I stood my ground without so much as a flinch.

She angled her face so that her lips hovered over mine, "I'll rip them from your face and use your filthy whore blood for lipstick."

It took everything inside of me to not reach out and strike the bitch, so I settled for sending her my fiercest death glare. Humor twinkled in Madame's blue eyes.

"I'm sure you can use all the make-up you can get, Madame Fey," I told her politely.

For a moment, I saw rage leak through her cool exterior, but as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared.

If there was anything I was certain about Madame Fey, it was that she'd be my first obstacle. She would be my first step towards fulfilling my sworn oath to the Angel. She would be the first to die.


	2. Upon My Knees

"_I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day."_

_ -Abraham Lincoln_

**UPON MY KNEES**

"I should kill you now," Madame Fey threatened.

I swallowed my smile, determined to keep a straight face. I was just happy I broke through her mask. It meant I could get to her.

"Why don't you then?" I asked in a serious tone.

"Because, you my darling, Angel, will be my key to early retirement," Fey answered sweetly.

_What the hell did that mean? Did she plan on me being her favorite high-priced whore? She's got another thing coming if she thinks—_

"Have you ever lain with a man?" Fey asked bluntly.

"Wh—what? That's none of your business!" I argued lamely.

"Oh sweet, virginal, Angel, you daft little girl, of course it's my business. You're standing in a brothel and I am your master. I own you, you naïve brat. You are chained to a bed with nothing but fancy underwear to protect your virtue. Do you know how much any one of those men downstairs would pay to deflower you?" A combination of a chuckle and a giggle rolled out of Fey's throat.

At first I grew angrier and angrier with each insult that crawled out Fey's pompous mouth, but then the reality her words hit me like a ton of bricks fallin'out a horse's ass.

Before the terror could sink in she winked at me and said, "But don't you fret, sweet Angel. Something tells me that none of these men's offers will intrigue me. I'm looking for a much deeper purse and that may take a couple of weeks for the word to spread."

I could only hope that my dang face managed to stay put as I exhausted so many different emotions in a matter of seconds.

Anger, worry, terror, shame, relief, outrage, bloodlust.

"You smell horrible," Fey said with a wrinkled nose.

I'll have Raven and Hazel come to bathe and feed you.

Two weeks had passed as I sat inside "my" room and chained to the damn bed.

I stared out the window and into the sun, remembering how Luke and I were under that sun, training and bonding, not too long ago.

_That was two weeks ago Clary. Here you are sitting pretty like some damn damsel in distress! Luke would say if he saw me now._

_At least Momma would be happy, _I think to myself as I remember the last conversation I shared with her.

….

_"Once we're in Idris, I don't want you fighting or shooting anymore, Clary."_

_"What!"_

_"And no more trousers for you, young lady. It's about time I see my daughter in petticoats."_

...

"_Well, I'm not in those trousers no more, Momma, you'd be happy about that, wouldn't ya?_ And this ain't exactly petticoats, but I'm wearing a corset. Those go with dresses, right?" I whisper out loud to the sky. "And I ain't shooting or fighting no more. That's obvious," I sighed and let several tears fall for my lost parents.

I shake my head at myself in disgust. The last word I said to my Momma was 'What!' and then I just walked away.

"Oh, Luke, Momma, I let you both down. It's been two weeks, and I'm in the same place I started. I should've never surrendered. I should've let them kill me."

_You're letting them kill you now Clary,_ Luke's voice said to me. _ You're letting them break you. You are giving up._

_Well how the hell am I gonna do anything when I'm chained to a God forsaken bed, Luke! _I snap at his voice._ It ain't exactly easy you know._

"The world won't go easy on you, Clary. You better expect pain and learn from it or you may as well pick out your own tombstone if you can't handle it," I say out loud to myself and for the first time in day I feel ready to fight.

_Thank you, Luke._

"Angel," a friendly voice called, pulling me from my chat with the dead.

I turned from the window and saw that it was Hazel, a curvy mixed girl with a bright smile. It amazed me how she could possess the capability to smile and have so much spirit left intact after the length of time she had been held here.

That type of spirit should be free, not here in this hellhole rotting away into the empty shell I almost became.

Suddenly an idea started scratching at the back of my head.

"You look a lot better today, Angel. Is it my new outfit that's improved your mood?" she attempted to joke.

Her attire was nearly identical to mine, though her outfit consisted of bronze. All of the of the female "entertainers" to Madame Fey's court wore color coded corsets like twisted versions of uniforms.

It was just another way for to brand us as her slaves.

Hazel was carrying a tray of food over to me as she had done every day since my arrival. I gratefully reached out to empty Hazel's hands and picked at my meal. I eyed it warily as if it would sprout limbs and attack. It was a hard chunk of bread, and some discolored pile of mush.

_People pay for this crap?_

"Once you start working, you'll have a wider variety," Hazel promised kindly as she sat on my bed. We had become, in a strange way, friends.

Hazel was kind and funny and strong at heart. I could see Hazel as a fighter and a damn good one at that. I would've never thought to find such a good person in a place like this. She must have been forced here like, I thought sadly.

"I think I'll stick to this poison if that's the price."

Hazel looked hurt by my comment but she hid the expression quickly. Regret settled over me in an instant crash.

Me and my big mouth just made the kindest girl I've ever met, feel like a cheap hooker. What a good friend you are, Clary.

**HPOV**

"Shit, Hazel, I didn't mean that. I just-"

"Enough, "she interrupted with a chuckle. "I know exactly what you mean, Angel. Just count yourself lucky." Her caramel eyes searched the harlequin of Angel's, trying to figure out why she was so special.

Maybe it's because she doesn't even look like she could be twelve, much less sixteen? How can this tiny thing be the same age as me and Raven? I bet she's even a virgin, the poor girl. Is that why that bitch Fey hasn't put her to work? Fey's definitely up to something. What's that evil queen of horror have in store for Angel? Hazel thought quickly to herself.

**CPOV**

The girls I had interacted all claimed that no one was here longer than a night before they were put to work. I was going on a full, untainted two weeks and a lot of the girls were definitely starting to take notice in my lack of participation.

I could see Hazel searching my eyes as if the answer to why I was exempt from being sold and raped. It wasn't like I wanted to announce my virginity, so I played along as though I knew nothing.

"Maybe what Madame has planned for me is far worse than everything else she does to the rest of the entertainers." I thought out loud as I remembered our confrontation that first night.

"Well it does no good to worry of the future." Hazel assured me.

"Nor the past." Added a new voice and I turned to see Raven, the tallest girl in the house, strutting forward. Her corset had been decorated with royal blue and black. It corresponded agreeably with the sharp veil of her dark hair and blue eyes. I assumed that it was the reason behind her slave name. Just as I was given the name, Angel, the other girls had all been renamed. It was yet another way for Madame to enslave us. We were no longer our old self. We were who the Queen said we were. The audacity to say otherwise was rewarded with severe punishment.

By far, I thought that Raven was the most attractive of all inside the brothel, and by the jealous looks shot at her by the other workers, and lust coated stares from all the clients, I wasn't alone in that thought.

There was this unmistakable glamour about her. I could not find proper words to explain the enigma that was Raven but to anyone who ever saw the girl, there would be no need for description. It was clear as day that Raven was the epitome of beauty and desire.

Her sheet of jet black hair moved away from her face as she lay across my bed and stole my lump of bread.

Anger surged through my blood like lightning.

"What the hell!" I snarled out.

"Sorry," Isabelle cried in a deeply surprised tone. "I honestly didn't think you were going to eat it," she continued as she threw the bread back on my tray.

"Or freak out like that..." Hazel added in a stage whisper.

"Not the damn bread, Raven! I mean your face!" I shouted.

Raven's eyes widened as Hazel jumped to her feet and pulled Raven's hair from her face. Across her cheek were red marks, rimmed with purple, where three knuckle shaped bruises were forming.

A familiar rage bubbled in my gut at the thought of some barbaric, rapist beating my friend.

"I swear on the Angel, I'll kill him," I growled viciously. I didn't even recognize my voice.

Hazel balled her hands into fists, standing in front of Raven. Her entire body was shaking and for a brief moment of insanity, I thought Hazel was going to explode into a wild animal.

"Who did this?" We roared angrily in unison.

**RPOV**

"Angel, Hazel, it is not-"

"If you say the word 'important', you're going to get slapped again." Angel spat.

Raven's impossibly wide eyes opened even further.

_How can someone so small be so intimidating? Get it together, she's five foot nothing!_

Raven thought to herself.

"Raven, you're important!" Angel urged her to listen. "Just because these evil bastards kidnapped you when you were too young to protect yourself, does not give them the right to treat you like this. Just because money is exchanged and you're taken against your will, does not make you less than what they are!

"Raven, don't you see that they are so ugly, inside, outside and anyway you can turn them? And you are so beautiful and worthy of so much more than these beasts. They are evil and sick and you are so good and pure! Both, you and Hazel. I would never think to find such kind and inspirational women in a place like this, but here you two are. You two are part of the reason I've survived these two weeks. You two are incredible. You two can only be their prisoner if you let yourselves be their prisoners!

"Don't you see that you two are stronger than all of them combined?" Angel cried out.

Tears were building at the rims of each of their eyes.

Angel's words had broken through Raven's fears and denials. They shined light on herself and she saw the truth for what it was.

Raven thought her heart would burst with all the emotions she was going through. Disgust at herself for allowing shit like getting hit become something commonly expected. Shame that her friends saw her weak. Love at the knowledge that they cared enough to be outraged on her behalf. And an uncontainable amount of loyalty charging through every nerve in her body. But mostly she felt anger. She couldn't live like this anymore. She needed to escape this fucking hell hole. No more selling her body, no more being a punching bag and no more being a slave. No more being told who she was. She knew who she was.

"Isabelle." Raven whispered and she felt like chains were falling from her body. A slow smile split her lips.

Hazel and Angel looked at each other sharing confused and worried glances.

"What was that sweetie?" Hazel asked softly.

Raven sat there quietly and it was long enough for her two friends to share more glances.

"Raven?" Hazel tried again.

She shook her head hard. "No. Not Raven," the girl said and looked at her two friends knowing she could trust them. She was going to escape damn it. Whether they wanted to or not, they were coming with her. But if they were leaving, they were leaving as themselves.

"My name isn't Raven. Raven has never been my name." She announced.

Angel felt a flutter of hope in her stomach.

"My name is Isabelle Lightwood."

Hazel sucked in a sharp breath and turned to look at the door as if expecting Madame to charge through it and kill them. But the door remained closed and Madame's gunslingers didn't plow through it.

A slow and devious smile graced Angel's lips as she held her hand out to her friend.

"It's nice to meet you Isabelle Lightwood. My name is Clarissa Fairchild. But please, call me Clary."

Immediately, smiles expanding on both their faces, Isabelle's hand grasped Clary's and they both turned to Hazel. She seemed to be having an inner battle with herself.

**HPOV**

They are going to get us killed! We're so dead! Fey will have us hung! Just look at those two idiots. They've only said their names out loud and already they feel as though they're free... They certainly look free.

Which is it then? I can tell by the look of them those two have fully embraced this and will try to escape. Either they'll succeed or fail. If they succeed then they're free. Freedom. Two years here and I've forgotten the meaning of the word. Oh how I long to be free. But if they fail then they're dead. I don't want to die...but here I may as well be dead already. I'm a teenaged sex slave; this life, if I continue this slavery, can only guarantee diseases, beatings, and botched abortions. Then, once I'm thirty I'll be no good as an entertainer. I'll be far too old for any brothel. I'll get the boot and I'll die on the streets. By then I won't have a fighting chance. If I stay, I die sooner or later, regardless. At least now, I have a chance. I can fight while I'm still strong. The odds aren't ideal but, if there is any factor to improve my odds for survival, it's these two crazy women before me.

Isabelle and Clary held their other hand out as they saw the relief overcome their friends features. A very bright smile lit up Hazel's face and they knew her decision. She reached out and both of her friends placed their hands in hers.

"Hazel was never real. She was a parasite that used me as a host. She's dead now. My name is Maia Roberts and I'm taking my body back or I'll die in the process!"

**A/N: SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAS TO GO THROUGH THE REVISED VERSION, BUT I FEEL A LOT BETTER ABOUT THIS STORY. I'M TRYING TO POST EACH UPDATED CHAPTER AND THEN SOME BY THE END OF THE DAY. IT MEANS A LOT TO ME IF YOU REVIEW AND EVEN MORE IF YOU READ. PLEASE ENJOY!**


	3. The Right To Live

**I COULD NOT DECIDE WHICH QUOTE COULD BEST CAPTURE THE EMOTION OF THIS CHAPTER, SO I SAID FUCK IT, AND LET THE FREEDOM SPEAK FOR ITSELF. I IMAGINE EACH OF THE GIRLS MAY HAVE SAID THIS TO EACH OTHER AS THEY CONVINCED THEIRSELVES TO ESCAPE.**

"_When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw."  
― Nelson Mandela_

"_Better to die fighting for freedom then be a prisoner all the days of your life."  
― Bob Marley_

"_Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free."  
― Jim Morrison_

**THE RIGHT TO LIVE**

I sat back in awe, watching the two fierce women I had come to know over these two weeks. A sensation that I had never felt for anyone outside my family, was growing inside me. It was the sense of loyalty and protection. In the moment that they had spoken their true names, out loud, they had become my family and I would have died for them.

Together, Isabelle, Maia, and myself, were going to break free. We were going to escape this place, and we were gonna do it with our real names.

Speaking our true names out loud had made me feel as though I were already free. It was an amazing feeling and I had to fight hard to keep my smile contained.

But despite all of the metaphorical chains the three of us had freed ourselves of, there was still one very real chain locked around my ankle.

As one, we shifted our gaze to the rusted cuff, almost as if it had called to our attention.

"I almost forgot about that," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Me too," Isabelle said in a serious tone. "That's definitely going to make our escape a little difficult."

"Well we could leave without her," Maia said.

Me and Isabelle turned to the kind girl with our jaws dropped.

"oh, calm down, you two. I'm inclined to a joke or two." She giggled.

"Don't ever do that to me again," I scolded playfully. "But seriously, if I can't get away, then you two still need to try and escape."

"Oh, you hush. Whatever Fey is waiting for, it won't be too long now, and we'll need to be ready when that time comes, "Isabelle advised. "I'm just hoping that her plan involves removing your chain."

"What could she possibly have planned? Fey's never chained a girl, no matter how unwillingly the girl was." Maia wondered out loud.

"Nor has she left them untouched for so long,"Izzy added.

"Yes, all very mysterious, but what are we going to do once the cuff is removed?" I asked, growing impatient of becoming a puzzle to them.

I should tell them Fey's plan, but I wasn't ready to let my sex status become common knowledge. Something about the subject just made me feel too shy.

"What we do best," Izzy smirked.

Maia lifted an eyebrow, causing me a flash of petty envy. I always wanted to do that, but my eyebrows refused to cooperate. I only managed to look as if I were experiencing symptoms of a stroke.

"What is that?" Maia asked.

"We improvise," I declared.

Isabelle nodded at my correct assumption.

"We're going to be hung by our very intestines," Maia whimpered, but did not further object.

I knew as well as they did that whispering about was futile. No matter if we had all year to strategize, there were just too many variables involved. Planning was only a waste of time and extremely risky. If we were ever over heard, Fey would kill us all.

Our situation was definitely one to worry about, but was I afraid?

Hell no.

The three of us were tough and resourceful. We would fight or we would die. There would be no surrendering this time around. Anything was better than being a part of the Seelie Court, as Fey liked to call the brothel.

"Go to your rooms, stay alert, eyes and ears at the ready." I ordered.

My friends nodded, but as Isabelle rose from my bed, I stopped her.

"His name?" I persisted

"Clary-"

"Until we're free, call each other by our slave names, _Raven_," I said, emphasizing her given name in warning.

"He's a member of the court, Angel," she begged.

"Members of the court know how to die too."

My voice was full of malice and though Isabelle did not know me for more than two weeks, I sensed that she knew there was no changing my mind. I was headstrong and Isabelle was going to tell me his name one way or another.

"Meliorn."

With that, Isabelle turned and left.

"He's Fey's lead enforcer. He'll be hard to kill," Maia explained.

"We'll see."

Fey looked up from the papers on her desk as a knock echoed off her door.

"Come in," she hummed.

In walked her protégé, in her usual light blue corset. It matched her blue eyes that seem to take up her entire eyeballs.

Kailie.

She was the only girl allowed to be called by her true name. Seeing as how she would one day become the Madame of this court, Fey saw no harm.

"Valentine has assured that he'll be here for the girl by tomorrow evening," Kailie confirmed.

"Good. See to it that Raven has the girl presentable."

"Yes, Madame Fey."

As the door closed behind Kailie, Fey let a triumphant smile cross her lips.

She knew Valentine couldn't resist this girl. Not when she looked just like her mother did fifteen years ago.

…

**1938**

"_You're pregnant,"_ _Fey accused the young Jocelyn._

"_You're mistaken," Jocelyn replied as she tried to hide the bucket she'd stolen from the kitchen._

"_Do not lie to me, Angel. I've just caught you rinsing that bucket and I can still smell the vomit on your breath."_

"_I ate something foul," Jocelyn answered smoothly. _

_If Fey hadn't known for certain that she was lying, she may have been fooled._

"_Do you forget that I know your cycle? You haven't bled all month, sweet Angel._

_Fey watched Jocelyn's eyes widen in fear. She remembered what happened the last time she'd gotten pregnant. She didn't want that for this child._

"_Please, Madame Fey, I'm begging you."_

"_You know what has to happen, Jocelyn. I've already sent Meliorn to prepare the tools. You may take a moment to ready yourself, but when I return, I don't want to hear anymore begging._

…

For all these years, Fey regretted walking out that door, giving Jocelyn the chance to run away. Fey hummed in delight from the irony. If Jocelyn hadn't run away that day, she would never have had the fortune that Valentine was offering her for the girl.

But, Fey wouldn't make that mistake again. Jocelyn would be the first and last girl to escape the Seelie Court. That's why she had her new Angel chained. If she was anything like the first Angel, she'd run.

The next day, Kailie escorted Maia and Isabelle into my room.

"Make her as close to acceptable as you can. Madame has a guest who will arrive within the hour to collect her," she ordered, with a sickened expression. It was as if she could not fathom why anyone would demand and pay for my presence. It was obvious that she detested me, for reasons unknown.

_Fuck you too, bitch,_ I said to myself. I just hoped my face matched my thoughts as I glared at the blonde.

Maia nodded in obedience but Isabelle saw an opportunity. "As you wish, Kailie. For curiosity's sake, who would want her," she asked in a distasteful tone while nodding in my direction.

It convinced the blonde and Kailie chuckled and let a devious smile split across her face.

"As much of a shock as it may be, the richest man in San Francisco. The answer to why, continues to escape me." She glared at me with loathing.

My heart dropped. I had no clue who was the richest man in San Francisco, but fear gripped at my senses until nothing else existed. Why would he go out of his way to come for me?

"Who is that?" Maia chirped innocently.

"Valentine Morgenstern, though I'm not surprised you've never heard of him. Being as narrow minded as your kind are explains more than you could know."

"Why would he want her?" Isabelle pressed with the continued note of perplexity.

Kailie shrugged but obliged," It's an endless wonder, but as soon as he heard that she was here, he offered Madame Fey a fortune."

Their eyes widened in wonder. Why on earth would the richest man in town want me?

Why? Why? Why? What could I possibly mean to him? I was no one.

"I was just as awestruck," Kailie commented hatefully.

"Regardless, Madame wants her in a flawless state. Ensure that it is accomplished, Raven," Kailie barked.

"Will do," Izzy promised.

Kailie exited the room and I was bombarded by my two friends. Maia combed at my fiery locks as Izzy attacked my face with makeup.

"Tonight is the night," Izzy observed.

"It's now or never," Maia added.

"If we don't act tonight...we'll never see you again Angel." Isabelle shuddered at the thought but it needed to be said.

"I know," I admitted. I felt anxious and scared all at the same time. Tonight I would be unchained, and either I would find freedom in life or freedom in death.

**A/N: SORRY THIS DIDN'T GET POSTED LASTED NIGHT. I HAD **_**THE**____**WORST**___**MIGRANE EVER. **


	4. The Survival and Success of Liberty

**A/N: This is where the 'M' rating really comes into play. I warn you now that this will not, I repeat, will not be a nice chapter. If you cannot handle this portion of this story, I suggest you stop reading it all together. If you decide you can stomach this, thank you for your continued support.**

"_Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty."_

_ -John F. Kennedy_

**The Survival and Success of Liberty**

Isabelle had just placed the finishing touches on me when Madame Fey barged through the door. "Leave," she ordered.

The three of us looked at each other with wide eyes. Time seemed to slow as I met their gazes and tried to communicate with them through my eyes.

_We have to act normal. It's okay, I'll be fine,_ I thought at them.

They seemed to understand because Maia and Isabelle bowed their heads to the floor and left the room.

We stood there in a brief silence, like it was the first night all over again, sizing each other up. I could see in that evil glare of hers that she was trying to induce fear in me.

Keep trying bitch, I thought. She could stand there all night and I would refuse to satisfy her sick humor and show her my fear. She could tie a noose around my neck and tie it to a tree, and I wouldn't be afraid. Fey was a lot of things, but she was not worthy of my fear.

"Madame Fey," I acknowledge with a nod of my head. "Why have you decided to grace me with your presence?" I asked sarcastically.

Of course I knew why she was there. She wanted to taunt me and make me doubt myself. Well, whatever she had to say would not faze me. To her, I was untouchable.

"You're a lot like your mother," she observed.

I was wrong. She could faze me.

Thank the Angel for Luke, because if he hadn't taught me to keep my emotions off my face I would be bawling my eyes out in front of this bitch!

I had expected Fey to say a lot of things, but that was never one of them.

She had to be toying with me. There was no way she knew my Momma.

"Oh?" I said with boredom.

Even if what she said had gotten to me, Fey was never gonna' know it.

"Yes, very much so. That is why I decided to name you after her."

_What?!_

"What are you talking about?" I managed to ask without roaring in anger.

"Oh? Did she never tell you that she used to work for me?"

_She's lying. She's gotta be lying._

"I shouldn't be surprised, she always did try to hide things about herself. Just like she did the two times she discovered she was with child."

_Now I know she's lying. I'm an only child._

"Just know that if you try to escape like she did," she started to say. The softness in her voice disappeared and she held a vice like grip around my throat and continued to say, "You will end up dead. Just. Like. Momma."

She pushed me away by my neck and left the room.

_You're_ wrong, Fey. You'll be the one who's dead.

**IPOV**

"Do you think she is removing the chain?" Maia had whispered to Isabelle.

They stood in Maia's room as they tried to calm their anxiety.

"I don't think she would," Isabelle answered. "She won't want to remove it until Valentine's arrival."

"This is insane," Maia said aloud. "I can't believe we are going through with this."

Isabelle stopped pacing so that she could tell Maia to watch what she said, but just then, two men walked through the door.

Isabelle's heart thudded to a stop as she recognized Meliorn as one of the men. The other man was Daniel Manning, one of Maia's regulars.

"Leave them to their business, Raven," Meliorn commanded.

Isabelle gritted her teeth together. She did not want to leave Maia to be used and she did not want to follow Meliorn out of the room.

She met the soft, hazel eyes that were Maia's.

_You must go,_ Maia's eyes were saying.

Isabelle blinked away the tears that were forming and left her friend with _Daniel._

She could feel Meliorn following her like an ice cold shadow. Gooseflesh dotted her skin as his foul breath touched her neck. They had walked into her room and he closed the door and leaned against it.

He watched her with a neutral expression. She fidgeted nervously as she tried to clamp down on her fear. It felt as though hours had passed when he finally spoke.

"Have you been touched today?" his deep voice bellowed out.

"N-no."

"Do not lie to me," he roared.

"I swear on the Angel!" Isabelle declared. "Madame Fey gave me the morning off so that I could prepare Angel for her new master."

He seemed to consider her words but the scowl never left his face. He reached for the opening to his trousers and began to unfasten them. "And who is your master, Raven?" his voice dripped with malice.

"You," she squeaked.

He crossed the room in two strides and tangled his fingers roughly into her inky, black locks.

"Louder," he commanded Isabelle.

"You are my master," she said louder.

He threw her down to the bed and positioned himself between her legs. He did not bother to undress her as he pushed her underwear to the side and thrust his cock inside her.

She screamed in agony as he continued his onslaught of gyrating into her. He slapped his hand over her mouth to quiet her screams. "Shut up!"

Without realizing it, Isabelle's nails had dug into his bicep and broke through his skin. He growled in anger and back handed her across the face. Blood trickled down her chin as her lip split. It was not long before it was all over and his desires had been sated.

Meliorn pulled away from her and fastened his trousers.

"Hurry up and get downstairs, whore," he ordered without looking at her and left the room. It was in that moment that Isabelle had decided that Clary would not be the one to end Meliorn's foul existence.

No. It was going to be Isabelle to kill that sick bastard. The thought alone was enough to motivate her to smile and head downstairs.

**APOV**

Aline smiled as her "date" bought her another shot and handed it to her. In reality, it was not the whisky Eric thought it was. It was really a cheap tea that's bitter taste lingered on her tongue. Madame Fey had strict rules that forbade them from drinking on the job. The cunning woman that Fey was, set it up so that the customers paid triple the price for the foul drink and letting them think they were getting their girls slutty drunk.

She tossed the warm liquid down her throat and let out a seductive giggle. Eric watched her with hungry eyes that made her skin crawl. This was her life; sleeping with lousy men and waiting to die. By the Angel, Aline could not wait to die. It would be the only happy ending she could hope for.

"I think you've had enough to drink, pretty Kitty," Eric drawled.

That sentence alone was enough to make her want to throw up. She hated that name. It was not the one she was born with. More than the name, she hated pretending to enjoy the sex she was forced to endure with Eric and countless others.

"You sure I don't need a few more drinks, Eric?" she said in a desirable tone. With her comment she breathed heavily, causing her breast to move just beneath his chin. She leaned in to whisper in his ear as she groped his disgusting erection. "The liquor helps me handle so much more," she tempted.

"Bartender!" Eric called.

Aline smiled inwardly. She had bought herself some more time.

**MPOV**

When Maia had first met Daniel Manning, she had wondered why someone so beautiful would need to pay for sex. When she first heard him speak, she was provided an answer. He was a demeaning type of man with foul words. With each sentence he spoke, Daniel ruined his beauty. No self-respecting woman would willingly lay with him.

Daniel made her gag, quite literally. He roughly bucked his cock down her throat as she continued to choke. He was always rough during his visits and this was something Maia could never get used to. She placed her hands at his hips and tried pushing him away, but he only thrust harder.

He dug his fingers through her curls, his fingers scratching at her scalp, as he pumped himself into her mouth once more. He cried out in pleasure as his hot, sour fluid poured down her throat.

Maia never felt so sick in her life.

"I love watching those eyes of yours widen every time you choke. You're so pretty when you do that Hazel," he taunted as he buttoned his trousers. "It makes you look so young and frightened and I do love my women young and frightened."

Daniel couldn't have known that those were the wrong things to say to her at that moment. His cocky smile was triumphant as he looked down at her. Without thinking, Maia grabbed one of her hairclips that lay on a nearby dresser. It was decorated with a metal flower which rested on the long bar that clipped to her hair. The metal bar ended in a sharp point, which was the end that Maia had shoved into Daniel's Adam's apple.

His eyes widened in shock as blood came gushing out of the wound. His hands flew to his throat, trying to stop the blood and he fell to his knees. It was his turn to make choking noises as he finally fell to his back, but his wide eyes never left Maia's.

She stood there in shock as she watched the bastard die. She had hoped that it would be over soon, but his death seemed to never end. Moments passed and he had finally stopped gurgling his own blood. The light in his eyes vanished but they were still on her in a permanent shock.

Maia could no longer hold back the vomit and she bent over as her stomach acid surged up her throat and onto the floor.

"What have I done?" she cried out.


End file.
